


A Man Out Of His Time

by fiveainley_ohmy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bottom!Sherlock, Canon-Typical Violence, Future Fic, Happy Ending, John likes to use the f-word, John's daughter, John-centric, M/M, Proposals, Reverse TAB, Sherlock and John's Anniversary, Sherlock is self-aware, Shower Sex, john's mind palace, top!John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 02:30:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5850406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiveainley_ohmy/pseuds/fiveainley_ohmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An inversion of The Abominable Bride. John imagines a future where he is with Sherlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Man Out Of His Time

**Author's Note:**

> *This is meant to be a reverse of The Abominable Bride. Since Sherlock saw the past, John sees into the future.  
> *Godfrey Norton is the man that Irene Adler marries in "A Scandal In Bohemia" by Arthur Conan Doyle.  
> *The song Angelo sings is "Love Is Mine" by Enrico Caruso.  
> *This was supposed to come out yesterday. My bad.  
> *I finished writing this at 2 AM. If there are typos, please let me know.

John felt Moran's bullet pierce his torso, right underneath his diaphragm on the left side. He heard another gunshot, presumably coming from Sherlock's gun, and his best friend yelling his name as he fell over onto his back. Then there were feet slapping on the ground as they were racing toward him.

"John!" The consulting detective's face loomed over his, his pale grey eyes wrought with fear. " _John!_ "

John's eyelids fluttered shut. "Sherlock..." he whispered softly, just before he went under.

* * *

John opened his eyes.

He was in Sherlock's bedroom, in his bed, at 221B Baker Street. What was he doing here? He'd moved out years ago. Was-wasn't he just being shot at by Sebastian Moran?

John craned his head upward and cautiously felt at the circular scar on his stomach, right where he'd been hit. Huh? What was going...

Then John noticed the hand, that did not belong to him, splayed across his stomach. It was pale, with long fingers.

John's eyes followed the arm it was attached to, which in turn was attached to its owner-Sherlock. A very naked Sherlock. He was fast asleep, curled up to John's side, as peaceful as a Sunday morning. It was at this point that John realized he was also without clothes, and had one of Sherlock's thighs pressed between his legs.

John's brain shorted out at this point.

At this moment, Sherlock awoke, stretched slightly, then sluggishly raised his head to look at John. He smiled sleepily, his eyes heavy and dark. "Good morning," he said, his normal baritone voice even deeper and raspier in the morning.

"H-hello," said John. "What...happened?"

Sherlock chuckled in the back of his throat. "Well, my dear, if you don't remember, I can surely remind you..." He leaned up and began... _nibbling John's ear_.

"Gah! Sherlock, what are you doing?!" John exclaimed, flailing away from his flatmate.

"I'm...kissing you good morning? Isn't that what people do?" said Sherlock confusedly.

"No, no! I mean...wh-what am I doing in your bed?" John stammered.

"Well, we were a bit _eager_ last night, so obviously the most sensible option was to repair to the nearest location. I did suggest the couch, but you were concerned about Mrs. Hudson walking in on us. Again." Sherlock added amusedly.

"'Again?!' Sherlock, what the hell are you talking about?! What about Moran?!" John sputtered.

"Moran?" Sherlock sat up, slightly alarmed. "He's dead. He has been for years. John, are you feeling alright?" Sherlock put one of his hands to John's forehead in concern.

"Sherlock, he just _shot_ me in the stomach!" John exclaimed.

Sherlock looked very worried, then understanding passed over his face. "Oh, I know. You've been having bad dreams-it's your PTSD again, isn't it? Don't worry, my love, we don't have to worry about Moran any longer, I promise, I took care of him. Mycroft covered up the whole business. He had to excuse me, of course, because you were shot. But I promise, it's all over. Moriarty's whole criminal network has been disbanded."

"I...I..." John coughed weakly, realizing his mouth was suddenly very dry.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'll go get you some water." Sherlock got up from the bed, and John watched him go, his eyes blown open at Sherlock's pale, tight arse as he left the room stark naked.

 _Bloody hell...I'm going mad._ John grabbed his phone from the stand next to the bed where it was charging to check the time. Then, he noticed the date in the corner.

 _29/1/18_.

 _2018?...but that's...impossible!_ John thought to himself in shock.

Sherlock came back in, and John put down his phone and averted his eyes from Sherlock's...bits as the detective handed him a glass of water. "Here. Drink this, love."

"Um...thank you," said John, his cheeks slightly heating up at the endearment. He carefully sipped from the cool glass. Sherlock's hands covered his to steady them as he held the cup to his lips. Sherlock smiled at him with one of his rare, warm, _loving_ smiles. It made John want to quiver.

When the glass was drained, Sherlock pulled it away and set on the nightstand. Then he gently traced the corner of John's mouth, where a drop of water lingered. "Feeling better?" he asked softly.

"I...I'm not sure." John murmured. "Sherlock...is it the year 2018?"

"Why...yes. Of course it is," Sherlock replied.

"But that's impossible...it was just 2015..."

"You were dreaming again, love. I promise you, that time is over. Moran, Moriarty...we don't have to worry about any of them, ever again." Sherlock leaned forward and kissed John's forehead. Then he took John's phone and typed in 7437-John's passcode. How did he know? Well, it was Sherlock, after all. His brow wrinkled in surprise. "Oh, no, you've got to get up," he said, peeling back the covers and coaxing John out of bed. "We overslept. Mary's bringing over Shirley in an hour."

"Shirley?" said John as Sherlock grabbed his dressing gown and began putting it on him.

"Yes, remember? It's your day to visit her. I would think you'd remember the days when you get to see your own _daughter_."

John froze. "Daughter? I-I have a-"

"No time, John! Go, get in the shower!" Sherlock swatted his behind playfully, winking at him, and pushed him out the door.

The bedroom door shut behind him, and John stood out in the corrider, blinking in confusion.

_How can it be three years in the future? And are Sherlock and I a...couple?_

John shook his head and headed into the bathroom.

* * *

He turned on the water, warm, just like how he liked it, hung his robe on the hook on the back of the door and climbed into the shower, letting the relaxing stream wash over him. John's eyes closed. Warm water. Well, that was one thing he still understood.

After a few moments, John cried out in surprise as long arms wrapped around his waist and a pair of lips pressed into the side of his neck. "Sorry!" said Sherlock from behind him. "You're very unsettled this morning."

"Sherlock! Christ, you scared the living daylights out of me," John panted, clutching his heart.

"I'm sorry," Sherlock apologized, again kissing the side of his neck. "I just thought if we took a shower together, it might save us some time. Besides, you know I love your arse..." John gasped as Sherlock playfully squeezed one of his cheeks. Sherlock mouthed at John's jaw. "Allow me to make it up to you..." he purred in his ear.

"Sherlock-! Oh, _God_..." John felt his eyes closing and his head falling back on Sherlock's shoulder as the consulting detective's mouth did amazing things to his skin. He gasped and groaned under his best friend's touch. Sherlock's musician's hands stroked over his torso, drew circles around his nipples, which was like a jolt of pure pleasure coursing through his body. His thumb traced around his navel, and John shuddered. "Sherlock..."

"Mmm, God, John," Sherlock groaned, and John realized his flatmate was hard, rubbing between his arsecheeks.

"Sherlock!" John gasped breathily.

"Oh God, John, you gorgeous creature, I've got to have you, immediately." John felt Sherlock turn him around.

"Wha-oh, Sherlock!" John exclaimed as Sherlock sank to his knees and took John's half hard cock in his mouth; John swelled at the sudden velvet heat surrounding him. "Sherlock! Ah! Oh, God-" He choked, and his hands flew instinctively to his flatmate's damp curls.

 _What am I doing?!_ John thought to himself. _Why am I just going along with this? And...holy FUCK, how is he doing that with his tongue?_

Sherlock moaned around his erection, the vibrations feeling _fantastic_ against John's excited flesh. John's hands clenched with pleasure in Sherlock's hair, and the moaning grew louder. _Oh...he likes having his hair pulled._ John carefully tugged on some of his flatmate's curls, and Sherlock whined. When John looked down, Sherlock was furiously stroking himself as his head bobbed up and down on John's cock. The sight was enough to make John's balls tighten, and suddenly he was coming in Sherlock's mouth, whimpering, his hips thrusting helplessly. Sherlock just held onto his buttocks and patiently swallowed him down.

Still trembling, John pulled away from the other man, supporting himself against the wet tiles of the shower's interior. "I-I'm sorry. I-I couldn't-"

"John, it's fine," chuckled Sherlock, standing up, wiping off his lips. "God, I love it when you lose control. It's so fucking attractive. John..." Sherlock's head tilted backward, stroking his throbbing cock, bringing himself to completion right in front of John. John couldn't bring himself to tear his eyes away. It was so incredibly erotic. John had always thought Sherlock was a handsome man, maybe even beautiful, when John was really honest with himself, but right now, on the verge of climax, he was absolutely exquisite. John couldn't help but reach out and take Sherlock's hand in his own, guiding it up and down Sherlock's cock, cupping the detective's testicles in his other hand. Sherlock moaned out his name and came hard, painting John's stomach. He was shaking, and Sherlock had to use John as a support. If John hadn't just had an almighty climax, he'd definitely be hard. He was feeling a little chubbed as it was.

Sherlock opened his eyes and exhaled. "Gah, that was wonderful! But we really do have to wash up, we only have thirty minutes."

They quickly washed their bodies and their hair, then got out and toweled off, and then put on the clothes Sherlock had brought them both in the bathroom. John tugged on his familiar oatmeal colored jumper. Well, that was one constant in this strange reality he'd found himself in.

* * *

When they both came into the main living area, they found Mrs. Hudson standing in their kitchen, washing up dishes. "Mrs. Hudson!" said John, delighted. So not _everything_ was different.

"Oh, hello, dearie." She came over and kissed his cheek. "I heard you and Sherlock next door, so I didn't think you'd have time to wash up before Mary and the little one showed up, so I thought I'd step in and tidy up for you."

"Oh!" John blushed brightly. "Mrs. Hudson, I assure you-what you heard-"

Mrs. Hudson gave a hiccup-y chuckle. "Oh, dearie, the two of you have been together for three years. I'm used to it. You know, Mr. Hudson and I used to get complaints from the neighbors three doors down-"

"Mrs. Hudson, these eggs are delicious, is this cheddar cheese on them?" Sherlock asked, holding a plate and fork.

"Oh, yes, nothing fancy. Just thought you could use a little protein," said Mrs. Hudson.

"Well, it was very thoughtful of you." Sherlock kissed a delightfully surprised Mrs. Hudson on both cheeks, then strode away to tidy up in the living area.

"Just this once, dear. I'm not your housekeeper!" she called after him, then laughed amusedly. "Just look at him. Bouncing around like a tot on Christmas morning. You're the best thing that's ever happened to him, you know," she said to John. Then she handed him a plate of eggs. "Now, you eat up. Oh, and I made brownies for the little angel. Don't worry, they're just the regular kind. I won't be making that mistake again." She left with a laugh.

John's head was still spinning. _Sherlock and I have been together for three years? Really? But what happened between me and Mary?_ She and John had had some problems after Mary's dark past came out and she shot his best friend, but he thought they had moved past that. What was different?

 _Nothing's different_ , said a little voice in his head. _That's the problem. You're still in love with Sherlock, even after all these years._

"Oh, by the way, Mary texted and said Godfrey's coming along," Sherlock called from the living room.

"What? Er, who?" said John, shaken from his stupor.

"Godfrey Norton? The new Mister Morstan?" Sherlock looked at him, puzzled.

"Er...right." _Mary's...married?_

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. "They're here," said Sherlock. John quickly swallowed the last bite of eggs, deposited his dinnerware in the sink, and came tentatively into the living room.

Sherlock was already opening the door. "Mary!" he said, hugging her as she came in.

"Hello, Sherlock. John." Mary came over and hugged him as well. "How've the two of you been?"

"We're...fine," said John, studying her, lost. Her hair was a bit longer, but other than that, she was absolutely the same. It was so strange to be greeted by his wife when she wasn't his wife.

"Mary, I think I left my cell at home," said a male voice as a tall man (though not quite as tall as Sherlock) with black hair and a bushy moustache came inside. He was carrying a little girl with bright blonde hair in his arms.

 _Christ, that's my...daughter,_ thought John in amazement.

"Daddy!" squealed the little girl. Shirley. "Put down, Goffey," she demanded.

"Alright, alright," laughed Godfrey, setting her down on the floor, so she could run across the room. She threw herself around John's legs and said again, "Daddy!"

"Hello there, little one." John could barely keep the tremor out of his voice as he stared down at her. She was so _beautiful_.

She looked up at him and put her little hands on her hips. "Pick _up_!" she ordered.

"Oh, alright!" John laughed and picked up the little girl. She hugged him tightly around the neck. "Bossy little thing, isn't she?"

"I think she gets that from her namesake," said Mary, looking pointedly at Sherlock.

_Oh. Shirley is short for 'Sherlock'. Of course._

"I am Cappin Sherlock Wasson, Fif Norfumberland Foosiliers," said Shirley proudly.

"She wants to be just like her father when she grows up," said Godfrey, coming over to put his arm around Mary. John noticed the wedding ring on his finger. There was a matching one on Mary's hand.

"Shirley? Have we said hello to everyone?" asked Mary expectantly.

Shirley looked around curiously, as if she just couldn't believe she'd missed someone else in the room. Then she spotted Sherlock across the room. "Unca Sherlock!" she exclaimed excitedly. John let her down so she could run over to Sherlock. Instead of hugging him, she shook his hand, like a small adult. "Mommy is pregnant," Shirley reported to him.

"Shirley!" exclaimed Mary, Godfrey, and John.

"She missed her lass misstral cycle and gained seben anna half pounds in the lass week," said Shirley insistently.

"Mary isn't pregnant," Godfrey reassured the Baker Street Boys. Then, he paused. He looked at Mary. "Are you?"

Mary bit her lip. "I was waiting till I was sure to tell you."

"Oh my..."

"Congratulations, Mrs. Norton," said Sherlock, coming over to shake her hand.

Mary blushed. "I've only gained seven pounds."

"Seben and a half," insisted Shirley.

"Well, someone's been working on their deduction skills," said Sherlock, smiling at her.

"I wanna be a cussulting defectiff."

"I thought you wanted to be a soldier."

"I can be boff. Like Daddy."

Sherlock laughed. "Your daddy is an amazing man."

"Did you axe him to marry you yet?"

Sherlock blanched. "I...how did you..."

"There's a ring box in your pocket. Plus I know Mommy went with you to help pick out tha ring."

The room was very quiet. "Er, Shirley," said Mary, awkwardly breaking the silence. "Why don't you tell Daddy about preschool?"

* * *

The afternoon was very odd. Shirley had the best time animatedly telling John about her preschool, where the teacher and all the children were dull and dimwitted, and how Miss Carpenter wanted Shirley put in an advanced program immediately. Then, while she was naming all the different parts of the skull with Sherlock, John, Mary, and Godfrey were having coffee in the kitchen.

"You're pregnant and you didn't tell me?" Godfrey hissed.

"Sherlock's planning to propose and you didn't tell me?" John exclaimed hushedly.

Mary opened her mouth sheepishly, then closed her mouth again and buried her face in her mug.

"Well, erm. Congratulations," said Godfrey stiffly to John. "You and Sherlock are good together."

"He hasn't asked yet! And now I doubt he will," said John. "And I don't even know if I'd say yes."

Mary looked surprised. "Why wouldn't you say yes? Sherlock's the reason you and I...you know. Because you were in love with him. I always knew you were, but you didn't want to give up on me. It hurt, at first. But you deserved the best."

"I-is that why we separated? Because of Sherlock?" said John.

"Of course," said Mary. "John...you know I'll always care about you. You're a great father to Shirley. But you and Sherlock...I just could never come between that. And besides..." She smiled up at her new husband and patted his cheek. "I have someone too."

"So...you're alright. With all of this."

"Yes. I'm fine." Mary laughed. "John, are you alright?"

"Yeah, just...weird day," John mumbled, sipping his coffee.

After a few hours, Mary, Godfrey, and Shirley had to leave. John hugged her tightly before she left. "I love you _so much_ ," he whispered.

"I know, Daddy. You're being silly," giggled Shirley. "Bye, Unca Sherlock."

"Goodbye, Shirley," said Sherlock.

After the Nortons left, Sherlock and John stood around, hands in their pockets, awkward. "Well, erm...hungry?" Sherlock asked.

"Uh..." John's stomach gurgled. "Yes," he answered sheepishly. Sherlock laughed.

* * *

They grabbed their coats, and walked down the street to Angelo's. Angelo greeted them with gusto ("Mr. Holmes! Dr. Holmes! Oops, I mean Watson.") and sat them at their usual table, with a candle and everything. "Everything is on the house, Sherlock. Anything you two want, I'll cook it myself," said Angelo, grinning at them excitedly. Then he strode away.

"Well, he's in a chipper mood," said John.

"He thinks I've brought you here to propose. Our 'first date' was here after all," said Sherlock moodily.

John looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "Is that why you brought me here?" he asked tentatively.

"That was the original plan," grouched Sherlock.

John hesitated, then reached out and touched Sherlock's hand. "I'm sorry Shirley ruined the surprise."

Sherlock sighed. "It was going to be so perfect. This was our...anniversary."

"Of when we first got together?" John said.

"No, of when we met. The twenty ninth of January, 2010. It's been eight years."

"Eight...Christ." John sat back.

Sherlock stared at his shoes. "The best eight years of my life," he admitted quietly.

"Oh Sherlock," said John, and before he knew what he was doing, he leaned forward and kissed Sherlock.

_Holy shit. Holy shit holy shit holy shit. I am kissing Sherlock Holmes._

" _His love was mine/my heart was like a garden_ -" Suddenly Angelo reappeared, serenading them, with a guitar player at his side.

Sherlock groaned. "Not _yet_ , Angelo!"

"Oh. Sorry, Sherlock, sorry...sorry..." He and the guitar player slunk away.

John looked at him. "Did you actually hire them to serenade us?"

" _I_ didn't. They volunteered. I also happen to know that Mrs. Hudson, my brother, Mike Stamford, and the Lestrades have planned a party in honor of our pending nuptials."

"The Lestrades?" John said.

"Yes. Geoff and Molly."

"You mean Greg. And _they're_ -wow."  _Who would've thought-Greg Lestrade and Molly Hooper. Then again, who would've thought me and Sherlock? The future is a freaky place._

"It seems all of England's been waiting for us to get together." Sherlock rubbed the bridge of his nose, clenching his eyes shut.

"And what about you?" said John. "Do you...want us together?"

Sherlock snorted. "We've been together for three years. Surely you should know the answer to that question by now."

"But no, really, Sherlock. I mean it. You always made it seem like you could never love another person. You always acted like romantic love was stupid. Do you..." John's voice wobbled. "Please Sherlock, tell me...do you love me?"

Sherlock turned his head to look at him. "Do you really not know?"

John just looked back at him in silence.

Sherlock leaned toward him, took his hand, and said, "John Watson...I have always loved you. From the moment you shot that cabbie, from the moment you called my deductions amazing, maybe even when you first walked into that lab at Bart's. I've always acted as if love is meaningless to me, because I was afraid. I was raised to believe that love is illogical, that it clouds one's higher senses. And that is precisely what you do. Oh, John Watson." Sherlock smiled. "You are the grit in the instrument. The smudge on the lens. The virus in the data. It's always you, John. You distort my skills, but you _keep me right_. You are my conductor of light, and without you my life would be very dark indeed. I don't know how I managed to exist without you all those years. But I _do_  know that I don't want to exist another day without your luminescence in my life. And so, I humbly ask the best person that I have ever known..." Sherlock brought the ring box out of his pocket and opened it. "To make me his husband."

John had a hard lump in his throat. The corners of his eyes were tingling. His bottom lip trembled.

"Tears. Is that a good thing?" said Sherlock, panicking.

John laughed, a teardrop escaping and rolling down his cheek. He cupped Sherlock's face. "Yes, Sherlock. It is a very good thing." He leaned in and kissed him again, for the second time.

And Angelo burst in again and began singing, and Sherlock and John just ignored him, continuing to kiss.

* * *

That night, when they returned home to Baker Street, John just couldn't stop admiring the ring on his finger. _Sherlock Holmes is going to be my husband. I am getting married to Sherlock Holmes_.

John didn't even care if he was sleeping or hallucinating, or even if he had died and gone to heaven. Whatever was going on...John was _fine with it_.

Sherlock came up behind him, kissing him on the cheek. "Should I call our friends and tell them the good news?" he asked.

John turned around, grabbed the consulting detective's collar, and murmured, "Tomorrow." Then he kissed his _fiance_ hard.

They continued to kiss as John dragged Sherlock to the bedroom. Sherlock had been wearing the purple shirt of sex, as John referred to it in his mind sometimes, all day, and it had been driving him crazy. Why the fuck did his flatmate have to wear such tight fucking clothes all the fucking time?

John slammed Sherlock against the wood of the door and snogged him silly. Sherlock moaned against him. John bit down on his bottom lip. Sherlock's mouth opened and John pushed his tongue inside. His fingers found the straining first button of Sherlock's shirt and ripped it open. The button clattered to the floor. "Oops," muttered John.

"It's fine," said Sherlock. "We've resewn the buttons back on this shirt plenty of times." He grinned.

John grinned back and pulled him back down into a kiss, undoing the rest of the buttons on his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders and letting it flutter to the floor. He pulled away and took in Sherlock's naked torso hungrily. "Fucking hell, Sherlock, you are gorgeous. And you're all mine."

Their lips crashed together again and Sherlock took off John's sweater, then his undershirt. Sherlock began kissing down John's body. John actually moaned at the sight of Sherlock on his knees in front of him. Sherlock reached up and stroked John's bullet wound from where he'd been shot by Moran. "No more bad dreams?" he asked.

John smiled and took his hand. He kissed it. "Not tonight. Maybe not ever again."

Sherlock smiled up at him, another one of those warm, rare smiles that made John feel like his heart was going to burst. "I love you," he said, feeling like he was going to cry again. He'd finally gotten to say it.

"I love you too," said Sherlock, standing up, wrapping his long arms around the army doctor and bringing him close, burying his face in the side of his neck. John absorbed the feeling of his detective so near.

_And I get to feel like this everyday. I don't know what other life I was living before, but I know the one I want to be in._

John pulled back slightly to look into his detective's eyes. "I want you," he whispered.

They began to kiss passionately again as Sherlock's fingertips traced down his chest, across his navel, and began undoing the button of his trousers. John kicked off his shoes and then his trousers as they fell to the floor around his ankles. His cock was getting stiff in his boxers. He stripped off Sherlock's trousers and pants in one go, then began pulling him toward the bed. But Sherlock's pants were tangled up in his shoes that were still on his feet, and he tripped, falling on top of John. They both toppled to the floor, laughing. "I bloody love you," John crowed.

"You're an idiot," Sherlock chortled back, kicking off the brick-a-brack around his ankles.

John sighed happily and stroked Sherlock's curls. "But I'm your idiot though."

Sherlock smiled at him. He crawled up John's chest and kissed him. "Come on." He offered John a hand and they climbed onto the bed.

Sherlock laid back on the pillows with John on top of him. John shimmied out of his boxers and his socks, and then they were both totally naked. "Mmm," murmured John, as he made it his mission to kiss every inch of Sherlock's porcelain skin. "You're so warm."

"John..." Sherlock sighed as John mouthed over his nipples.

 _Aha. Another sensitive spot_ , John thought triumphantly, teasingly licking one of them. They puckered and perked up underneath his tongue. "Ah, John," Sherlock groaned happily.

John grinned and continued kissing down his body, tracing the curve of his lean abdomen, and the ring of his bellybutton. Then, he was eye level with Sherlock's cock. Blood swollen, and beautiful. John grinned at Sherlock, then carefully ran his tongue over the head of it.

" _Ah!_ " Sherlock jerked. John held his hips down as he sucked the tip of him in between his lips. He swallowed more and more and more of him till he was gagging around him. "John..." moaned Sherlock.

John had to hold back a moan of his own. How long had he longed for this? To have Sherlock completely his, to have him coming completely unglued underneath him.

"John...John, please." Sherlock was tugging him off. "I...can't last. Make love to me, please. I need you."

 _Fuckthatissohotfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck..._ John quickly got up. "Ahh...where's the...ah..." _Make words, mouth!_

"It's the drawer, where it always is," said Sherlock, pointing to the nightstand.

John fumbled for the lube and coated his hands. "You ready, love?"

"Yes," said Sherlock. "I shouldn't need too much, after last night..."

John's ears turned red. Then he found Sherlock's entrance and carefully inserted a finger inside.

John found that Sherlock was in fact already fairly prepared. He accepted two, then three fingers easily. John pressed in deep and found that certain spot that made Sherlock's back arch. "John, now, please!"

"Fuck, Sherlock," John groaned as he slowly pulled his fingers out. He opened the drawer and looked in it again. "Condoms?"

"You-we're both...John, we haven't used condoms in ages. Unless _you've_ been with someone else recently?" Sherlock said, raising an eyebrow.

"No, no-no," said John quickly. _Technically, the last person I was with was Mary_. "Sorry, I-"

"It's fine," said Sherlock. "Just-hurry, John."

John sat back on the bed, between Sherlock's legs. He slicked up his aching erection. Sherlock was lying, prone, wanting, and beautiful. John just couldn't help himself as he stroked himself to the image. Christ, he was even more beautiful than he'd imagined.

Sherlock was watching him. "Oi. Save some of that for me."

John laughed. He lined himself up and got positioned at Sherlock's entrance. "Okay. Ready?"

"Yes, love, just do it already," Sherlock laughed.

John licked his lips. He began to push himself inside. "Oh, God, Sherlock-" he gasped.

"Keep going," groaned Sherlock.

John brought himself all the way in. "Fucking hell, that's good."

Sherlock rocked himself on John's cock. "Oh, Christ, yes," John groaned.

"John-"

"Sherlock-"

"So good-"

"Bloody hell-"

"Keep going-"

"Yes, Sherlock, yes," groaned John, thrusting into him.

"John-" Sherlock reached up and pulled him down to kiss him. As John thrust into him, Sherlock's cock was trapped between their sliding torsos, causing friction.

"Fuck, Sherlock, I'm so bloody close," panted John.

"Do it, John, oh God, I love you," gasped Sherlock.

"Sherlock...Sherlock...oh _God_." John moaned as he came inside Sherlock, thrusting hard. Sherlock was whimpering underneath him, and John inserted a hand between them, and soon Sherlock climaxed as well. John slumped on top of him, breathing hard. Sherlock laughed softly and stroked his hair.

After a minute or two, John looked up Sherlock. "I really do love you."

"I know you do," said Sherlock, smiling. "You have for a long time. I'm not as blind to your feelings as you think, John. Hopefully you'll realize that when you wake up."

John froze. "When I...what?"

Sherlock smiled reluctantly at him. "I practically revolutionized the concept of the Mind Palace, John. I know when I'm in one."

"You mean...all this..."

"In your head. Yes."

John was crushed. "Then none of this is real."

Sherlock took John's hand. He placed it over his beating heart. "Feel that?"

John nodded.

"That's real. And it's beating for you, love. The other me, in the other place-he loves you. You have to know that. Otherwise, you wouldn't have imagined all this."

"Are you saying...I'm trying to tell myself something?" said John.

"That's what I assume," said Sherlock.

"Then what do I do?"

"You wake up, my love."

John could feel tears pooling in his eyes. "I-I'm not sure that I want to."

"You must, John. You've just been shot. You're dying. If you stay here...I'll lose you. The real me. Please, John," Sherlock cupped his face, brushing away a tear. "I need you. Come back to me."

The words seemed to be coming both from Sherlock's lips, and somewhere outside their plane of existence. John laid his head on Sherlock's chest. "I love you," he said, crying. "And I just don't know what to do about that."

Sherlock laid there, holding him, stroking his hair as John wept. Finally, after what felt like a long time had passed, John looked up at him. "Alright," he whispered. "I'm ready. What do I do?"

"Go to sleep. That's my guess. You woke up here-the inverse is most likely the way to leave."

"Alright," said John, nodding. He was already feeling drowsy-his physical body must be reaching consciousness. "Just-one more thing."

"Anything, my love."

"Kiss me."

Sherlock leant forward and tenderly kissed him, stroking his cheek. Then, they broke apart. John laid his head on Sherlock's chest once more and shut his eyes...

* * *

John woke up.

He was lying in a hospital bed. The sun was shining out of the window. He felt quite sore on the side where Moran had shot him. He felt the gauze covering the wound under his hospital gown with his hand. Then he turned his head.

There was a mass of dark curls laying on his stomach.

John smiled. He gingerly reached over and scratched at them gently. They moved, and Sherlock jerked, now awake, and looked at John, his grey eyes bleary, but alert.

John smiled at him weakly. "Miss me?"

"John." The detective's voice was hoarse, and it was obvious he'd been crying. "Oh thank God," Sherlock breathed, surging forward to hug him.

"Oomph! Careful," squeaked John.

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Sherlock, pulling back. "You lost consciousness, but the ambulance arrived just in time. You'd lost a lot of blood. Moran was a trained assassin, yet he didn't hit a fatal area, therefore it must not have been meant to take your li-" Sherlock was caught off by John reaching up and pulling him down for a kiss.

Sherlock was frozen with surprise at first, then his eyes closed and kissed John back. Then John let go of him. Sherlock stared at him in shock, his mouth hanging open.

"Sorry," said John. "I should've asked before I did that-"

"John," breathed Sherlock. "But...Mary-"

"I know."

"So...you-"

"Yes."

"...now?"

"Yes."

"...honestly."

"I'm afraid so."

"Oh." Sherlock sat back on his chair next to John's bed. "Oh, dear."

"I know. I'm such a fucking wanker," groaned John.

"No, _I_ -"

"I'm married!"

"I faked my own-"

"But you had to-!"

"-should've said something before-"

"We both could've-"

"Bloody tossers."

"The both of us."

The two men looked at each other, then laughed hysterically, finding their situation quite amusing-in a sad ironic way.

"What are we going to do?" said Sherlock.

John sighed. "I really don't know."

Sherlock touched his hand. "Whatever happens...I love you, John Watson."

John smiled. "I know. I love you too."


End file.
